Havana, Cuba, June 1715
Apr. 27th, 2018 07:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
doesnotkneelStede Bonnet, it turned out, had not only lost his crew but had no skill for sailing. Edward had saved his ship from being commandeered by the English but to all intents and purposes he commandeered it himself.
They had one thing in common, at least, as they were both heading for Havana. Bonnet's ship was fast and he was talkative but good company, so they sailed together in what was a mutually beneficial partnership — for the time being at least. As Edward steered he asked Bonnet about himself.
What he found was a rich but fretful man, evidently attracted to more, shall we say, questionable ways of making even more money. For one thing, he constantly asked about pirates.
“Most hunt the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola,” Edward told him, suppressing a smile.
Bonnet added, “I shouldn’t worry about being waylaid by pirates, truth be told. My ship is small and I have nothing of immense value. Sugar-cane and its yields. Molasses, rum, that sort of thing.”
Edward laughed, thinking of his own crew. “There’s not a pirate living who’d turn his back on a keg of rum.”
The trip itself went off without much incident. Their arrival in Havana was more problematic: Edward'd managed to get himself into a punch-up at a pub, and some of the local Spanish guard had decided to take it upon themselves to liberate Edward of his maps and Bonnet of his sugar.
Retrieving both items took some skill. It had been taken to the castle where El Tiburon, the executioner, resided. It required a caper involving ladies of the night, a bit of gab, and Edward hanging off the side of a fortress, skittering up into the loot room.
Bonnet's sugar was forfeit, too heavy to carry. So Ed filched a pouch of money on his way out. Who needed enough gold to fill a room with, truly?
... Besides Edward himself.
He gave the pouch to Bonnet when he returned to the ship, expressing some half-meant apologies about forgetting about his sugar.
“Oh, it’s no great loss,” Bonnet said, but took the pouch anyway.
“Will you stay long?” Edward asked him.
“For a few weeks, yes. Then back to Barbados, to the tedium of domesticity.”
“Don’t settle for tedium,” said Edward, “sail to Nassau. Live life as you see fit.”
By then Bonnet was halfway up the gangplank, his newly acquired crew readying themselves to set sail. “Haven’t I heard that Nassau is crawling with pirates?” He laughed. “Seems a very tawdry place.”
Edward's mouth curved. “No, not tawdry,” he said. “Liberated.”
Bonnet smiled. “Oh, God, that would be an adventure. But no, no. I’m a husband and a father. I have responsibilities. Life can’t be all pleasure and distraction, Duncan.”
For a moment Edward’d forgotten about his assumed identity and felt the tremor of guilt. Bonnet had done nothing but help him. Quite what possessed him, Edward wasn’t sure. Guilt, he supposed.
But Edward told him. “Hey, Bonnet. The name’s Edward in truth. Duncan is only an alias.”
“Ah...” Bonnet smiled. “A secret name for your secret meeting with the governor...”
“Yes, the governor,” Edward said. “Right. I think I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
And he turned and went.
[[ taken from Black Flag and its novelization. ]]
They had one thing in common, at least, as they were both heading for Havana. Bonnet's ship was fast and he was talkative but good company, so they sailed together in what was a mutually beneficial partnership — for the time being at least. As Edward steered he asked Bonnet about himself.
What he found was a rich but fretful man, evidently attracted to more, shall we say, questionable ways of making even more money. For one thing, he constantly asked about pirates.
“Most hunt the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola,” Edward told him, suppressing a smile.
Bonnet added, “I shouldn’t worry about being waylaid by pirates, truth be told. My ship is small and I have nothing of immense value. Sugar-cane and its yields. Molasses, rum, that sort of thing.”
Edward laughed, thinking of his own crew. “There’s not a pirate living who’d turn his back on a keg of rum.”
The trip itself went off without much incident. Their arrival in Havana was more problematic: Edward'd managed to get himself into a punch-up at a pub, and some of the local Spanish guard had decided to take it upon themselves to liberate Edward of his maps and Bonnet of his sugar.
Retrieving both items took some skill. It had been taken to the castle where El Tiburon, the executioner, resided. It required a caper involving ladies of the night, a bit of gab, and Edward hanging off the side of a fortress, skittering up into the loot room.
Bonnet's sugar was forfeit, too heavy to carry. So Ed filched a pouch of money on his way out. Who needed enough gold to fill a room with, truly?
... Besides Edward himself.
He gave the pouch to Bonnet when he returned to the ship, expressing some half-meant apologies about forgetting about his sugar.
“Oh, it’s no great loss,” Bonnet said, but took the pouch anyway.
“Will you stay long?” Edward asked him.
“For a few weeks, yes. Then back to Barbados, to the tedium of domesticity.”
“Don’t settle for tedium,” said Edward, “sail to Nassau. Live life as you see fit.”
By then Bonnet was halfway up the gangplank, his newly acquired crew readying themselves to set sail. “Haven’t I heard that Nassau is crawling with pirates?” He laughed. “Seems a very tawdry place.”
Edward's mouth curved. “No, not tawdry,” he said. “Liberated.”
Bonnet smiled. “Oh, God, that would be an adventure. But no, no. I’m a husband and a father. I have responsibilities. Life can’t be all pleasure and distraction, Duncan.”
For a moment Edward’d forgotten about his assumed identity and felt the tremor of guilt. Bonnet had done nothing but help him. Quite what possessed him, Edward wasn’t sure. Guilt, he supposed.
But Edward told him. “Hey, Bonnet. The name’s Edward in truth. Duncan is only an alias.”
“Ah...” Bonnet smiled. “A secret name for your secret meeting with the governor...”
“Yes, the governor,” Edward said. “Right. I think I’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
And he turned and went.
[[ taken from Black Flag and its novelization. ]]
